Baby's Breath
by Prairie24andMoochiecat2009
Summary: Grissom and Sara discover a mystery surrounding the grave of a baby that died 74 years ago. A GSR Halloween story. One chapter a day will be posted with the final chapter arriving on Halloween. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

By: Prairie24 and Moochiecat2009

Baby's Breath. A CSI Halloween Story.

Authors' Note: This is the very first story from Moochiecat and Prairie24. Moochiecat bows to the greater writing skill of Prairie24, and only lists herself, because Prairie insisted.

This story is inspired by an actual grave in a Civil War Cemetery in Manassas Virginia. Anyone wanting to know more. Go to my profile and email me.

This story is set in Season 7.

Mundane, it was simply mundane. A body dump in Woodlawn Cemetery, Las Vegas. A drug dealer was eliminated by a rival. No big deal.

Sara Sidle stood up, stretched her aching back and looked around. It was almost dusk and she was at the end of a double shift. It hadn't been a difficult call-out. The body was that of Dave "The Dog" Halverson, one of Las Vegas' well known dealers. Taken out by one of his "competitors." No one but his mother was going to mourn.

Stretching a bit more, Sara took a look around her. Over to her right was a huge monument to some founder of Las Vegas. Then she turned to her left to ease her aching shoulders. That's when she saw it. The tiny little grave. It piqued her curiosity. She went over to take a look. The small stone said: Betty Louise Dickinson, July 30, 1933 to October 31, 1933. Not unusual, not at all. A child lives for 3 months. Not unusual. But what was unusual were the gifts left at the grave. Modern gifts; gifts you would give a child alive now. A Teddy Bear, a mini-pumpkin, a little Bratz Doll.

Sara stood stock still. It's 2007. Someone is still mourning the death of this little girl, 74 years later. Who? Who?

'Gil! Gil! "Sara yells out. Gil Grissom turns from his examination of the body of Dave Halverson to see the love of his life kneeling at a small grave.

He gets up, slowly (bad knees, as we all know), and goes to Sara.

"What dear?"

"Look, Gil, someone is still leaving gifts for this baby girl who died 76 years ago."

"Ah, my dear, a modern mystery." He looks at her with an expression of love and understanding. He knows that Sara is incapable of letting go of such a story/mystery.

"I suggest you start with the records Woodlawn Cemetery keeps."

"I will, " she states.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: CSI and its characters don't belong to us; we're just borrowing them for a little while.

Baby's Breath – Chapter 2

Sara rubbed her eyes tiredly. It had been a long day, but she was unable to get thoughts of tiny Betty Louise Dickinson out of her head. After stowing her kit in the truck, she looked around to find Gil. She finally spotted him several yards away talking with Detective Jim Brass.

Walking over to him, she waited for Gil to finish his conversation. He turned to her and smiled as Brass walked away, a smile Gil reserved only for her. "Are you ready?"

She nodded. "I was going to stop by the cemetery office, but I think they're already closed. I'll pay them a visit tomorrow."

Gil nodded; he knew that Sara wouldn't be able to let the mystery of Betty Louise Dickinson go. Sara loved a good mystery; that's why she had become a CSI. He looked around to see who was near before asking, "How about dinner?"

Sara grinned at him, lighting up her whole face. "Dinner sounds great."

"The vegetarian restaurant by your place after I drop off the evidence?" Gil suggested.

Sara nodded in agreement; she inwardly rejoiced at the thought that Gil was taking her eating preferences into consideration. There was a time not so long ago when he wouldn't have noticed at all. A short time later she was settled in a corner booth at the restaurant waiting for Grissom to join her. While she waited, she scribbled notes on a piece of paper – Betty Louise Dickinson, July 30, 1933-October 31, 1933. Putting down her pencil she stared at the dates on the piece of paper and chewed her bottom lip, deep in thought. She jumped when Gil slid into the booth next to her.

"I didn't see you coming," she said.

Gil leaned forward to kiss her tenderly on the lips. "You were deep in thought. What were you thinking about?" Gil had an idea that he already knew her thoughts.

Sara sighed. "Betty Louise Dickinson. I still find myself thinking about that baby girl. It's been three quarters of a century, Gil, and someone still loves and thinks about her."

Gil pulled the slip of paper containing Sara's notes in front of him and studied the dates. "Someone must have loved her very much to still be placing things on her grave after all this time."

Sara nodded in agreement; she couldn't wait to get to the cemetery office tomorrow.

After an exasperating , frustrating day Sara finally made it to the office at Woodlawn Cemetery. It was a long, low, white cinderblock building that really didn't blend in with the old granite tombstones surrounding it. Sara looked out over the quiet cemetery filled with sculptured stones of angels and crosses and scrollwork and listened to the howling wind whistling across the flat land. The loneliness of it all sent a shiver down her spine and she hurried into the dingy building away from the whistling wind to find answers about Betty Louise.

Hours later, Sara's back ached between her shoulder blades from hunching over file cabinets of old records. The tiny records room was dark, with unpainted cinderblock walls. The concrete floor was cluttered with boxes and stacks of files. Many of the pages were wrinkled and musty and had been wet at some point over the years. Sara sneezed for the third time in as many minutes, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

A hand on her arm nearly made her jump out of her skin, and she whipped around. "Gil! You scared me."

"I'm sorry, Sara. I decided to look for you; I haven't seen you all day." Gil fished a clean, white handkerchief out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Sara blew her nose and stuffed the hanky in her pocket before turning to stare tiredly at Gil. "This place is so disorganized I don't know how they ever find anything. You'd think all these old records would be entered into the computer by now."

Gil's eyes took in the way Sara's shoulders drooped in exhaustion, and he took a step toward her. "Turn around," he murmured and began massaging her shoulders.

Sara sighed in delight and her head lolled forward. "That feels amazing." After a few moments, the pain between her shoulders began to dull. "Okay, Gil," she told him, pulling away, "I have to get back to work. I want to find that file before the office closes."

Gil rolled up his sleeves. "Let me help you. Where do you want me to start?"

Smiling gratefully at him, Sara pointed to one of the many dusty piles sitting by a cluttered desk in the middle of the room.

Gil dragged a rickety wooden chair over by the pile and started sifting through the musty papers. After what seemed like hours later, he straightened up with a moan and triumphantly waved a file over his head at Sara. "Got it!" he called out.

Sara hurried behind him and placed a hand on each of his shoulders, leaning over to read the file. "What does it say?"

Just as Gil opened Betty Louise Dickinson's file, a gust of wind rattled the windows and the lights went out. Sara curled her fingers into Gil's shoulders.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: CSI doesn't belong to Moochiecat and Prairie.

Baby's Breath - Chapter 3

Just as Gil opened Betty Louise Dickinson's file, a gust of wind rattled the windows and the lights went out. Sara curled her fingers into Gil's shoulders. Quickly, Gil put an arm around her shoulder. "It's okay, Sara. It's okay."

Sara drew a deep breath. "I'm okay, Gil. Let's just look at the file and get going." Gil and Sara started reading the file:

Betty Louise Dickinson: Born, July 30, 1933. Died October 31, 1933. Seventh live birth to Phoebe Jane Dickinson and Ralph Dickinson. Cause of Death: Accidental Smothering. Contributing factors: None. Burial: Child's coffin, white, $350, Burial site, $250, concrete liner: $150, 1 car for the parents: $35. Funeral service charges: $35. Paid in full, John Hancock Insurance policy.

"Well," Gil comments, "funerals were certainly a lot cheaper back then. We won't learn anything more from this." "Gil, I want to talk the Cemetery Administrator." "Certainly, Dearest."

Gil and Sara go in search of the Administrator, Mrs. Henning. They find her in her office and ask her for a few moments of her time. She graciously agrees. Sara begins, bluntly. "We'd like to ask you about the grave of Betty Louise Dickinson."

Mrs. Henning sits back and sighs. "Yes, you're not the first person to ask about that grave. Betty Louise is a legend in this Cemetery. For more than 74 years the toys on her grave have been changed every Halloween. My staff and I, have, several times, tried to stake out the grave on Halloween. You know, to find out who is changing the toys. But, we were terrified by the winds that came up and the strange lights that appeared. We never lasted more than 15 minutes. It was just too creepy, too intense."

Sara says "Thank you", to the Administrator. Outside she says to Gil, "Tomorrow is Halloween. And it's my off day. I'm staking out this grave." Gil nods. He knows his lady. "I have the night off too. I'll stake it out with you." Sara turns to him, putting her hands on his chest. "You don't mind? You'll loose a lot of sleep Gil" "No, Sara. I'm as intrigued as you are."

Which is why, 24 hours later, Sara and Gil are in the Cemetery with their cameras trained on the grave of little Betty Louise Dickinson.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: CSI doesn't belong to us.

Baby's Breath - Chapter 4

Sara shivered a little in the cool night breeze and pulled her jacket closer around her. She and Grissom had been out here for two hours so far and had set up camp with their lawn chairs side-by-side and thermos bottles on the ground between them in a small stand of trees near Betty Louise Dickinson's grave. It was a little after eleven o'clock now; the night was still young. Sara looked up at the full moon and admired the stars twinkling in the sky. Out here away from the lights of the strip, she could see so many stars.

"Are you cold?" Grissom asked her, sliding his arm around her shoulders.

Sara leaned her head against his shoulder. "I'll be okay," she answered.

The wind blew again, this time a little harder. Sara sat up and looked around. Next to her, Gil stiffened. Both of them seemed to sense that something was different. Just as Mrs. Henning, the cemetery administrator, had said, suddenly there was a strange circle of light surrounding Betty Louise's grave. Grissom and Sara both stood, Grissom's lawn chair toppling over backwards in his haste to stand.

Sara gripped Grissom's arm so tightly he could feel her fingernails biting into his skin through his jacket. They both stared wide-eyed into the light. The wind blew harder, and Sara could feel particles of dirt biting into the skin of her face. Both spectators winced as the light flashed brighter, causing Grissom and Sara to stumble backwards, bumping into their lawn chairs. Sara's mouth opened and closed, but she couldn't find her voice. A particularly strong gust of wind blew Sara's lawn chair over backwards, and caused Grissom and Sara to brace themselves against the force of it. Just as quickly as it began, the light show ended and the gale force wind died down. The night went back to being peaceful and quiet, with stars twinkling brightly in the sky.

Sara took deep breaths to calms herself and looked up at Gil to ask him his thoughts on what had just happened, not ready to let go of his arm just yet. He spoke before she did.

"Sara," Gil whispered, tapping her arm and pointing across the cemetery. There slipping through the shadows with an uneven, unsteady gate was an elderly man, dressed in khaki pants and a thick flannel shirt. He wore an old hat and had a white handkerchief hanging out of his pocket; a heavy-duty flashlight was clutched in one hand. Gil and Sara watched as the man walked up to Betty Louise's grave and set down the small bag he carried with him, putting the flashlight down next to it. He knelt slowly and began taking items out of the bag.

Gil took a deep breath and began walking toward the baby's grave. "Gil," Sara hissed in a whisper before following him to the grave.

The elderly man looked up in surprise at the sight of Grissom and Sara approaching. He labored to his feet and stood waiting for them to get closer, gripping his flashlight in case he needed a weapon.

"Good evening," Grissom said as Sara walked up beside him.

"How can I help you?" the man asked suspiciously.

Gil offered his hand. "I'm Gil Grissom and this is Sara Sidle. We're with the Las Vegas Crime Lab. We worked a crime scene here a few days ago, and Sara noticed Betty Louise's grave."

"I'm Dan Dickinson, Betty Louise's brother."

Sara smiled at the man. "I was wondering, well....Gil and I noticed the toys here on Betty Louise's grave; we can tell that no one has ever forgotten her. I haven't been able to get her out of my mind; Gil and I have been sitting out here, waiting to see who's been taking such good care of her grave. Is it okay if I ask how she died?"

Dan sighed. "It's a long story."

Grissom smiled at the elderly man. "Sara and I have plenty of time. Let me get you a chair, Mr. Dickinson." Grissom quickly returned with his lawn chair and sat it next to Dan.

The older man sank into it with a sigh. "I've waited seventy six years to tell this story," he sighed.

Gil and Sara exchanged a look before turning their complete attention to Dan and Betty Louise's story.


	5. Chapter 5

Baby's Breath

Chapter 5

Authors' Note: The epilogue to this chapter is AU.

A CSI Halloween Mystery, Tags: GSR, Halloween, mystery

By: Prairie24 and Moochiecat2009

Disclaimer: So sadly, there's a whole lot we don't own, including anything concerning CSI. If we did, the whole team would be alive and together.

Dan Dickinson eased himself into a more comfortable position in the chair Gil had offered, like an old building creaking and groaning into a familiar settlement. Sara offered him a cup of the nicely hot, slightly sweet, green tea from the thermos she and Gil had brought with them. Dan accepted gratefully and took a warming swallow before gathering his strength and wits about him. And began…

"I was born in 1927, outside of this here "Las Vegas." There waren't no Las Vegas then, course. I guess the closest place to where our old ranch was is what's now called Summerlin. We had about 40 acres and it weren't more than a chicken scratch farm, just barely givin' us enough to keep us and feed a couple of cows for milk and one extra for winter slaughter. My Daddy raised alfalfa for a cash crop but that didn't come to be a good paid crop until the 1960's… Sorry, I'm wandering away from what I need to say. Anyways, there waren't hardly any extra money. We lived on the edge, all the time. But us kids, we didn't know."

" I was six when Betty Louise was born in July of 1933 and I was the fifth of seven. She was the last baby, the seventh." The old man paused, then shook his head, ruefully. "They say a seventh born child is a lucky child. Don' you believe it, cause' it ain't so.

Mama, she just never did good with Betty Louise. It was like she couldn't take no right interest in her. She never wanted to hold her much, other than feedin' her." Dan stops, looks down. "Truth is, she was just plain wore out from all them babies comin' so fast. And from all the work she had to do herself 'cause none of us was really old enough to be a true help around the place. And then the baby got the colic. It was real bad. She wouldn't stop screamin' and fussin' and then more screamin. Sometimes Mama would hand her to Daddy and just leave the house. Daddy said she was takin' a 'Peace Walk.' 'Cause she desperately needed some peace and quiet."

"Anyways," Dan continues, "that Halloween, I got home from school around 3:30. My older brothers and sister were out doing their chores, and my younger brother was playin' in the back.

I wanted to tell Mama about the little Halloween party we had at school before we were let out for the day. Our teacher had made sugar cookies shaped like pumpkins and I'd never seen that before." Once again, Dan looks down and softly, so softly that Gil and Sara barely hear him, says, "Ain't it funny what a kid fixes on? The shape and color of those cookies are the one thing I vividly remember from that day. A bunch of unimportant cookies."

Gil leans forward and puts his hand on top of the old gentlemen's. "Dan, often children retain the memory that threatens them the least. The cookies were a happy memory, so there was no reason not to remember them."

Dan looks at Gil, clears his throat, takes a sip of tea, and continues his journey back to October 31, 1933.

"I went lookin' for Mama, to tell her about the cookies and how me and the other kids were lookin' forward to the Trick or Treatin' in town later that evening. I was all excited, 'cause it was my first time to go with the bigger kids."

"I heard sound from upstairs and figured it was Mama, probably feedin' Betty Louise. I ran upstairs and when I came around the corner and went through the door to the girls' room, I found Mama standing at Betty Louise's crib. She had the baby in her arms, wrapped in her blankie and she was rockin' her. When she turned around and saw me she put her finger up to her lips to show I wasn't tah wake up the baby. Mama put the baby back down in the crib." Dan hesitates slightly. "On her tummy. We didn't know back then that you shouldn't do it that way. I remember that Mama was singing "Hush Little Baby, Don't You Cry." And then Mama did the strangest thing. She took a big pillow out of the head of the crib and put it back on the rocking chair by the window where it was usually kept. Just as casual and easy as you please. While she was doin' it she was talking to me, saying since how it was a special day, this once we could go downstairs to the kitchen and help ourselves to milk and two of Mama's chocolate chip cookies. That was an unbelievable treat in my house. Cookies were kept for dinner dessert, not after-school treats, 'cause sugar, butter, flour, chocolate bars…all that stuff was costly and had to be stretched as far as they could go. S o believe me, I raced down those stairs to the kitchen. I remember Mama coming down a lot more slowly, almost dreamily. She seemed to be in some kind of, I dunnno, fog? Maybe? Dunno, really."

"The rest of the afternoon passed normally. Mama made dinner a bit early, 'cause Daddy was gonna' take us into town for the Trick and Treat stuff. My Daddy said Grace, and, then, halfway through dinner, Mama said she hadn't heard the baby stir in quite awhile and it was way past her time for feedin.' So she headed upstairs and a couple of minutes later a terrible wailing began."

"Daddy rushed upstairs and found Mama holding Betty Louise to her. She's gone, Ralph, our baby's gone. What did I do, Ralph? What did I do? My daddy tried to get the baby from her, but she wouldn't let go. She just hung on."

"I remember Daddy coming down and sending my oldest brother, Barney, out on one of our horses to our nearest neighbors. They had a telephone, we didn't. They let Barney call the Sheriff.

The Sheriff and a Deputy came." Dan takes a deep breath. "Mama wouldn't let go a' the baby. Pretty frankly, they were overwhelmed by Mama's grief. Didn't have no idea what to do. Just kept telling her that sometimes these things happen. That sometimes babies just die, smothered in their bedclothes. Daddy finally got the baby's body from her."

"It was a small funeral, just Mama and Daddy. Two days later. None of us kids went."

Here Dan pauses, obviously struggling for control of his emotions. Finally, he straightens in the chair and looks Gil and Sara in the eye. "She killed her. I know it. That night I went into the girls' room. I picked up the pillow on the rocking chair, and I found two round, wet spots, about the size of a baby's nose and mouth. I didn't understand then, but later I did. There was no "Post-Partum Depression" back then. It would just have been a charge of !st. degree murder. They would have hung my Mama. So, I said nothing. And the only thing I could think of doing, in contrition for my silence, was to bring my baby sister toys. Every year on the date of her death."

At this point, Dan breaks down entirely. His entire body heaves with sobs. As he ends his confession, Gil and Sara both lean forward and envelope his hands with theirs.

As they try to comfort Dan, a gentle, warm, wind arises. Dan lifts his tear-stained face. "Look, look!" he exclaims. Gil and Sara look towards Betty Louise's grave. A small light is hovering over the baby's grave. A friendly, sweet, and loving light. It comes towards them and brushes Dan's face. Gently, oh so very gently. All of them feel the grace, love, and forgiveness within that light.

Then, a larger column of light appears, beyond the baby's grave. Dan, Gil, and Sara watch, in absolute awe, as the small light and larger light unite.

Dan breaks the silence. "It's over. They have finally found each other. My Mama confessed to me, on her deathbed, what had happened. She regretted every single day of her life those few minutes of insanity. And every day she asked for forgiveness from God and her child. And if my baby sister forgave her, I'm pretty sure God did too."

The three of them watch as the light fades. Dan stirs, achingly rising himself from the chair. "It's finished. Mother and child are now together. There is no reason for me to return. I bless you both for coming here tonight and listening to an old man's sorrow."

Gil and Sara help him stand and watch as he slowly makes his way out of the cemetery. Sara turns towards Gil, puts her arms around his waist, and hugs him, hard. She buries her tear stained face in his shoulder. Gil enfolds her within his arms and thinks to himself, "Love is truly the most powerful emotion on this earth. Maybe, someday, Sara and I will hold our own child." To Sara he whispers, "Mystery solved, Dearest, mystery solved. Time for us to go home."

**Epilogue:** Six months later, Sara saw an Obituary in the Las Vegas newspaper: Daniel S. Dickinson, aged 82. Died from heart failure on March 10th. Survived by two sons, Michael (Diana) and Daniel,II, (Mary), four grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren. Pre-deceased by his parents, Ralph and Phoebe Jane Dickinson, brothers, Bernard, Ralph, Tom, and his sister, Betty Louise. Survived by one sister, Kathleen, and many nephews and nieces. Donations to the The Danny Thomas Memphis Children's Hospital, please.

Sara turn to Gil. "The Childrens' Hospital?" "Absolutely, Dearest," as Gil caresses her slight "baby bump."

The End

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story is based on a real life mystery. There is a grave in Old Town Manassas' Cemetery that this story was based on. Please go to our joint site to see the photo. It was taken only four weeks ago. I think, sometimes, about the fact that, very soon, no one will leave any more toys on Betty Louise's tiny grave. This mystery will not be solved.


End file.
